


Really, talk.

by sg_fic



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romantic Gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:07:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_fic/pseuds/sg_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romantic getaway forces Scott and Logan to talk. Really, really talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Really, talk.

 

Scott should have been happy.

He was behind the wheel of his beloved RX-8 with Logan in the passenger seat and two backpacks in the trunk, the school for the gifted was but a tiny spec in the rearview mirror, and the road stretched straight ahead like an airport runway.

They've made it—one whole year.

Logan and him.

_Jesus._

The speedometer read 70 mph and too lost in thoughts Scott drove in complete silence all the way out of Westchester, at least until Logan inhaled and exhaled loudly,

"Look, if you want to call it off—"

"I'm fine."

"…sounding very enthusiastic there, Slim."

"I'm sorry. I am, really. It's been a while since my last vacation, takes some getting used to I guess."

"How is _not_ having a bunch of kids constantly tugging at your sleeves takes getting used to?"

"I like being needed."

"Oh, yeah? I can think of several ways to make you feel needed…" Logan placed a big, warm hand on his jeans clad thigh and playfully ran it up until it was nestled between his legs, molded around his crotch.

"I'm… _driving."_ Scott struggled to say.

"We could make a pit stop…" Logan was gently fondling him, big hand splayed flat over his groin.

"I'd rather get there before dark."

"Yeah." The hand was gone and Scott immediately regretted his words, "Okay."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"That's fine Slim. Let's get there before dark."

Feeling like an ungrateful jerk Scott tried summoning the right words, then feeling like an idiot he switched the radio on instead.

91 FM was playing a monotonous track he didn't know, and as if rubbing salt the only line that kept on playing was _'how deep is your love'._

Feeling the tension in the car go up a notch he switched the radio off and turned his attention back to the road, pushing harder with his foot, trying to find his Mazda's carpeted floor.

The silence was loud, and driving at a hundred miles an hour Scott felt that they couldn't get to their destination fast enough.

Eventually they did make a pit stop to fill his baby up, and still withdrawn Logan was out of the car before Scott could shift to neutral.

"Logan—"

"I got it."

The passenger door slammed behind him and Scott signed. He pulled out his iPhone and unlocked it when he caught a movement in the side mirror and discreetly shifted his gaze to the other mutant. Logan was wearing tight jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the biceps. Working the gas pumps with an unlit cigar between his lips he looked like a sexy advert for something manly, tobacco or beer, and Scott sucked in a breath, heart fluttering.

It's been a year… and still being alone with the guy made him all kinds of stupid.

…which was probably the reason he clammed up, starting their weekend off the wrong foot.

The car tilted as Logan leaned against it and waited for the tank to fill and Scott hung his head; this wasn't how he imagined their trip. A part of his brain protested that he was ruining what was meant to be a romantic getaway, but his butterflies-induced resentment was much stronger.

He didn't expect Logan to remember that they first hooked-up two weeks before Halloween (hell, he didn't expect their relationship to last longer than a night), and he was even more surprised to learn that the Wolverine had planned a weekend by the lake to celebrate their anniversary. He was mainly touched and flattered at the time—it wasn't until the butterflies started that he began to resent their trip.

He was nearly done packing, his toothbrush, clothes and sleeping goggles lying neatly at the bottom of his backpack, and even packing lube had stirred nothing (gone were the days when he'd lie to himself about going to see Logan for sex—denying it even while lying beneath him and spreading his legs), but then he packed Logan's gift and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

He could feel himself blushing when he asked Hank if he could borrow the inhibition collar; a device the good doctor developed back when Scott was a teenager and in need of seeing an ophthalmologist.

 _'Is everything okay?'_ was his old friend's initial respond, blue brow wrinkling in concern _. 'Yeah, um, just for the weekend…'_ Scott blushed so hotly that the tips of his ears began to burn and seeing his distress McCoy, who was in on their secret, laughed and patted his back, _'In that case of course you can'_ and he began talking him through the safety protocol of using the collar, no more questions asked.

Now the collar was waiting in his bag, a surprise he knew Logan would like; ever since he learned about its existence he started probing, asking when his next eye test was due, and whether he'd be able to observe Hank use the collar on him—making it clear that he wanted to see his bare face…

…only at the same time Scott wanted to _not_ feel like a hormonal teenage boy so hung up on his crush that he was willing to do anything to please him, no matter how irrational.

Going against his gut feeling and allowing Logan to depower him in the middle of nowhere was an unnecessary risk; even a romantic getaway didn't strike him as the best idea with Magneto still on the loose, and Scott generally didn't like distractions…

…but he wanted to make Logan happy.

Then he smiled a crooked, sad smile. He could remember going through the same motions with Jean—torn between wanting her more than life and resenting how stupid loving her made him.

His remorse over the time he wasted begrudging his feelings instead of living them to the fullest crushed his very soul, and he swore that if he could turn back time he'd do things differently…

Only he couldn't—Jean was still dead, and Scott wasn't sure that his vow applied now that he was dating the man he used to think he couldn't stand.

All he wanted out of it, back when he threw himself at Logan a year ago, was to start a violent fight or have angry, rushed, bruising sex. To hurt physically as much as he was hurting emotionally—everything the late night danger room simulation they ran together failed to provide.

It sure started off angry—the two of them clashing in a rushed, violent make out session on the danger room's floor, but back in his room Logan demanded to know if he was Scott's first, and learning that indeed he was, fast and hard became out of the question.

Instead, Scott found himself pinned beneath Logan, trying to fight off the pleasure the slow roll of his hips had brought, trying to hate the tender kisses Logan planted on his bruised cheeks, on the corners of his mouth… the big palms were caressing him, rugged thumbs surprisingly gentle and skillful, stroking back and forth across his cheeks… down his neck… then further down until Logan took hold of his waist, narrowing his world to the hot, sleek thickness, to the way he was steadily moving against him… inside of him… until Scott's entire body tingle with an approaching orgasm.

He cried after he came, harsh, ugly sobs for the first and last time since her death, and Logan just held him in his arms until too tired to fight him off Scott fell asleep.

That morning he loathed Logan for making him have it good, but time passed and his anger abated more and more each time he let Logan fuck him. By the time Scott realized it was being replaced with something else entirely it had been too late, and now the L word hung above them, a big stupid elephant following them into every room that they entered.

After all it's been a year… couples either say it or break up by this point.

How were they supposed to spend a weekend together without any students around to interfere when the unsaid words rang too loud, raising questions that they both weren't ready for? Unless, of course—

The car swayed again and he turned in time to see his team member retrieving the nozzle to the gas pump. He wondered what Logan made of it all... were things this complicated for him as well?  

Eyes glued to Logan's back and hands draped over the steering wheel Scott signed. Initiating talks used to be Jean's job, and even those were few and far between in light of the telepathic link that they used to share. How two closed-mouthed men such as themselves were supposed to manage was beyond him.

He looked away when Logan wordlessly entered the car, obviously angry or disappointed or both, then lifting his gaze from the steering wheel he hesitantly opened his mouth to speak… but he had no idea how to fix this, how to convince Logan that he was eager to go on this trip when he was in fact equally scared.

"Thanks." He awkwardly said instead, sounding like a stranger thanking a man he wasn't entirely sure could be trusted—the way that he did when Logan cut his shackles back in Liberty Island.

"Mm-hmm." Logan refused to pretend Scott wasn't acting strange from the moment they woke up and Scott winced. Their weekend together was meant to be special, their first getaway, their first anniversary… angry at his inability to relax and enjoy himself, he wondered if maybe he brought the inhibition collar for more reasons than one.

 _I'll make it up to you._ He promised, too proud to translate the words in his head into sound—and too used to getting away with it and still being heard.

At the same time he desperately wanted to squeeze Logan's hand, but in the tense silence that filled the car the small distance between them felt impassible.

Reluctant, he gunned the engine.

The closer they got to the lake the lighter the traffic became, and by the time they started climbing the mountains their car was the only one to be seen. The day had been partly cloudy and in the valley below them cloud-shadows rolled across the fields, then across the woods beyond.  

The sight was breathtaking but neither said a word.

"Take a right." Logan instructed, and complying Scott found himself braving a narrow, winding mountain road.

Oh, wow.

They rounded a corner and suddenly, surrounded by the tall mountains, a lake gleamed before them in a million shades of red. No boats could be seen… no campers, no camping sites... only an isolated paradise with nothing but a spec of a cabin on the opposite side.

About ten minutes later Scott pulled over by the cabin, surprised by how welcoming and well attended it seemed.

Once there he expected Logan to take the lead, but waiting for him to initiate only resulted in neither getting out of the car. For a long moment they just listened to the birds sing and watched the wild flowers nod their heads in the late afternoon breeze.

"This is really nice." Scott tried, suddenly afraid that he had ruined their weekend beyond repair, but his wooden voice betrayed the inner turmoil he was trying to suppress.

"Ah-ah. So what gives?"

"Nothing… really."

"Yeah, right." Logan was staring at the dashboard, lethal, built body perfectly still. "You want to call it off? Is that what it's all about?"

"Don’t be silly, we're already here—"

"I'm not talking about the trip."

"Then what—"

And behind the ruby glasses Scott's eyes widened, _"No."_ the word left his lips before he knew it, and just as sternly as he had felt it when the thought tightened his chest.

It made Logan meet his gaze, his surprise quickly replaced with impassiveness, "Okay."

"Okay." Burdened by Logan's question Scott opened the door and stepped out to the crisp October air, then stretched out his limbs after the prolonged drive.

Autumn leaves were lazily falling around him and he briefly wondered what color they were, then the damn nervousness was back with a vengeance.

He once asked Ro (not without difficulty) what color Logan's eyes were. The weather goddess replied that they were hazel—a shade so bright that in daylight they almost seemed green.

Circling the car to grab his bag he was both impatient and scared to find out.

 

"How did you hear about this place?" Scott asked as he mounted the wooden stairs. They were completely engulfed by nature—the air was cool and crisp and smelled of sap, and the only sound was that of birds chirping.

"I built it." Logan replied, passing Scott as the younger man froze where he stood.

"You… built it. Right…"

Logan unlocked and opened the front door, then held it for him.

"When?"

"A long while back." Logan shrugged, "You coming?"

"Just how long back? And who's maintaining—"

But crossing the threshold Scott froze for the second time, just as dumbstruck.

"…How?" he turned to Logan, eyes wide behind the dark lenses, "Did you get someone to come over?"

The cabin's interior was spick and span, the fireplace stocked up with fresh cut wood, and grocery bags full of goodies awaited them in the kitchen.

"No, took care of it myself."

"But you were in all week—oh," Scott quickly recapped, "So when the professor told me he sent you to hand Moira a confidential letter?"

"I asked him to tell you that." Logan half shrugged, never meeting his eyes. Following his gaze Scott saw the heart shaped box of chocolates that waited for him on the dining table. Laid across it was a single, red rose.

"I…" Scott said, mind reeling. He had no idea Logan was into such gestures and his surprised must have showed—the ruby eyewear made it impossible to tell when people blushed, but he was certain that the feral features were darkening.

"I thought that…" Logan started then trailed off, "I don't know what I was thinking. I don't mind going home—electricity sounds like a better plan for the weekend anyway."

Logan just stood there, hands on his hips, eyes on the floor, and him believing that his romantic gesture was uncalled for broke Scott's heart.

…Hell, the guy asked him if he was breaking up with him less than five minutes ago.

Self-hatred was gnawing away at him—which was Scott's initial response to everything he gathered was his fault. It usually resulted in him shutting down even more then feeling even guiltier—but seeing Logan standing there uncomfortably broke the vicious circle and forced him to say,

"Electricity is overrated. I don't want to go home." 

"Right."

"No I mean it, Logan. What you've done here is pretty amazing, really… thank you. I love it." Logan nodded but didn't meet his eyes. "…and I owe you an apology, I know I've been acting off today, I…" Scott ran a hand through his hair while searching for the right words, "I should have told you that I'm terrible at these things… it used to drive Jean crazy too."  

The comparison made Logan look up. His eyes were sad and his lips were pulled into a tight line, but he nodded again, accepting the shitty apology.

Seeing his boyfriend settling for so little made Scott feel like the world's biggest douche—Logan didn't deserve that. In his own crude way Logan always had his back—even before they were lovers… and after Jean's death Logan was the only thing keeping him together…

Then, behind the dark shades, a decision hardened his gaze,

"I… I brought something with me, I thought that you might—that we might… err…" _idiot._ "Here," He turned around and went through his backpack, then pulled out the inhibition collar.

"Oh?"

"We've got an hour. I mean—if you'd like us to, um…"  It was Scott's turn to blush, his insecurity raising its ugly head, his eyes dropping to the floor. Logan crossed the room in a couple of big strides and prayed the collar out of Scott's hand, then cupped his left cheek with his free palm.

He looked content, and Scott could have ended it then and there—but reminding himself his man deserved so much more than crumbs, Scott forced himself to admit, "That's why I wanted to arrive before dark, I wanted us to watch the sunset over the lake… but I should have just told you the truth. I'm sorry."

He tried looking away, but Logan caught his chin and held his gaze, keeping him close; their faces inches apart. They were breathing hard now, their heaving chests almost touching and their gazes locked together. Logan licked his thin lips and following the movement with his eyes Scott swallowed hard,

"…although… we could just stay in…" he offered, his voice low, his heart racing.

Logan's only response was to arch one eyebrow and smile seductively, "…yeah?" he released Scott's chin and gently stroked his cheek, "Between the sun setting over the lake and a close-up of the headboard you choose—"

"—You." Scott leaned into the warm hand cupping his left cheek, "I choose you."

"…I'm pretty sure we could do both." The big hand slowly traveled down his face until Logan was running the pads of his fingers across his neck, along the imaginary line where the collar would soon rest.

"Can we start with the headboard?" Scott's voice was thick with desire—Logan was so damn good with his hands… it was easy to forget about the deadly claws that were sheathed within.

"Close your eyes," Was the quiet reply, "it will be a surprise."

Scott complied. He nodded to let Logan know that he was ready, and his heart tripled its speed as his glasses were gently removed.

"Atta boy… come here."

_I made a choice._ Scott had to remind himself, _I chose him._

Because leaving his glasses in the cabin and letting Logan blindly lead him into the woods was stupid and whimsical and romantic… all of the silly things Scott would never favor over safety, over assuring their survival…

….all of the silly things loving Logan made him do.

He didn't doubt his feelings for Logan, only ignored them because he didn't want to consider their implications, but when Logan asked him if he wanted to call it quits he realized that he's been putting off the inevitable. He made up his mind the moment he asked Hank for the collar… even if he didn't realize it at the time.

Everyone in his life assumed that his unadventurous stick-in-the-mud attitude was the result of his inability to stop emitting deadly optic beams, his way of remaining in control, and to some extent they were right—but they failed to see the antilogy; having no control gave him plenty of control.

Shielding his eyes from the world created a barrier that kept people guessing, kept them on edge—and nervous individuals were easier to attack, easier to command.       

The only real hardship had been intimacy. Whether he was laughing, admiring or begging with his eyes—his partner couldn't tell. Everything had to be spelled out, something he wasn't very good at without the added complication of constantly wearing shades.

He took their telepathic link for granted back when he was with Jean, but now that he had a partner who couldn't read his mind Scott found himself unintentionally stepping on Logan's toes more often than not, today included.

How Logan put up with him an entire year had been a mystery...

"Careful," Logan warned and pulled him close. A second later a branch lightly grazed his shoulder.

"Thanks," the word sounded genuine this time; blind, vulnerable and completely dependent on Logan, Scott felt humble—his stubborn pride at bay.

He knew he'd feel that way, it was one of the many reasons he borrowed the collar from Hank… and while saying the words scared him to death, it was long overdue.  

Logan had kept him close. A built arm was circling his waist and the smell of soap, leather and tobacco was making him heady—making him feel safe in spite of his blindness.

"Almost there," Logan said, and in the distance Scott could hear water lapping against rocks.

The air became high in humidity and smelled of algae. The grass under their feet was replaced with pebbles, the crunching sounds made by their footsteps mixing with that of the chirping crickets.

Soon after wood began creaking beneath them and Scott had gathered that they were standing on a dock. Logan brought them to a stop and the chilly breeze coming from the lake ruffled Scott's hair. Underdressed he hugged himself and rubbed at the goosebumps that began covering his arms.

"You cold Slim? Come here," Logan gathered him into his arms—a hug Scott gladly returned, immensely relieved to be back on Logan's good side after the day they just had. He buried his face in the soft flannel of Logan's shirt the way his glasses never allowed and wrapped his arms tightly around his man's waist.

"Thanks." Holding Logan like that made pleasant, tingly warmth spread throughout his body—it felt so good… too good…

 _Not now, not yet,_ he begged his frantic mind, but Logan's heart was beating steadily against his chest while those talented hands of his were sliding down his back to slip into the pockets of his jeans. He wanted to look Logan in the eye, _really_ look him in the eye, when he first said the words, but putting it off was what caused all of the unnecessary tension to begin with and suddenly he could no longer stand the wait—it had to be now! His heart rate uncontrollably tripled and he took a deep shuddering breath in an attempt to calm his nerves.

 _"You okay?"_ Logan rasped against his ear, stubbles grazing his face, and Scott just loved the ragged touch, Logan's deep voice, his earthy scent… his bravery, kindness and devotion, his poor attempts to pretend it wasn't so… how good he's been treating him, how much he cared when the people who should have been there simply weren't… Then, holding back for far too long—so many months wasted, Scott said,

"I love you."

Logan froze solid and against his shirt Scott filled with sudden fear. The possibility that the feelings weren't mutual didn't cross his mind up until then, "You don't have to—"

"I love you too, Summers." The voice was gruff but honest, just like Scott imagined it would be on the rare occasions he said the words in his head—usually still naked and panting right after Logan rolled off.

Relieved, Scott straightened and licked his lips in anticipation, but nothing happened and eventually he moved in, his full lips meeting Logan's stubbled cheek. He kissed it, then blindly sought the other man's mouth—but Logan pulled back.

"Only thing is, I don't want to keep doing this, Slim."

"You… don't?" Scott echoed, his heart painfully exploding in his chest and his stomach dropping so fast it was nauseating.

"No." the feral man let go of him and took a step back, and drowning in a sea of pain, Scott barely noticed Logan was talking again. "…you sneaking into my room, me sneaking into yours, never knowing where we'd spend the night, hiding from the kids, lying to our teammates... I can't do this anymore.  I want you to move in. I want us to come out."

…What? Then dizzy with relief Scott nodded, "I'd like that."

And by 'like' he meant desperately craved it, surprised by how urgent moving in together suddenly felt.

It was a lot harder to repress his feelings without the glasses repressing his powers, without the constant explosive headache of having the beams bounce off the ruby to absorb back into his body. Pure, destructive energy was somewhat reduced, allowing clarity and tenderness to take its place. It was enough for Scott to admit to himself that he didn't bring the collar just to turn Logan on (although it was a great added bonus); he brought it so that he'd finally be able to let his guards down and say the words. He brought it because he wanted to take their relationship to the next level. If he was angry today—it was only at his own inability to talk to Logan, really talk to him, without the collar's help. Guess trusting Logan this way was as intimate and as close to sharing a telepathic link the two of them could get.  

"This thing got needles in it?" Logan asked, bringing him back to the present.

"Yeah. You line the white mark with my spine, adjust the size then press the button once to insert them and twice to remove them. Only thing is we got an hour before—"

"—I had no idea. I'm not gonna stick needles in you just for fun Scott."

"It only hurts for a short while, then—"

"No. I've seen old photos, I already know you have the bluest, prettiest eyes in the world—and I love you just the way you are, shades and all. You're gorgeous Summers. Ever told ya that?" 

"Um… thank you." Embarrassed, Scott said. He wasn't expecting this, not at all, "Problem is—I never got to see _your_ eyes," he admitted, liking the new found honesty between them, how easy saying _I love you_ had become, "I want to do this, but I can't adjust the collar if I can't see—it's got to be you… please, Logan? Before the sun sets?"

There was a quick exhalation of breath and Scott wished Logan could see his eyes right then because he was pretty damn sure he was begging with them.

"You sure this thing is safe?"

"We got Hank's blessing, doesn't get much safer than that."

Only grasshoppers could be heard as the silence stretched between them, and unprepared Scott jerked a little when the collar's metallic inner surface touched his skin.

"Don't stop—I'm fine."

"…kay." Nimble fingers worked their way around his neck, turning and adjusting, tugging and correcting, Logan being this gentle never ceasing to amaze him, to arouse him… a hidden side of the Wolverine reserved only for him… and maybe occasionally to Marie.

"Hey…" Scott encouraged. Logan finished adjusting the collar but froze when he touched the activation button.

"It's okay." Scott sent his hands to Logan's wrists, then blindly felt his way to where Logan's hands met behind his neck, "…it's okay." He gently guided Logan's index finger back to the button.

Together they pressed it.  

The pain was as fiery as Scott remembered, and just as short lived—then the constant buzz of pure energy in his head tapered off, until the world became very quiet and calm, the pressure behind his eyeballs melting away.  

"Scott…? You okay?"

Scott nodded and turned his head away from Logan, towards the lake. Slowly, he opened his eyes. At first he thought something went wrong—the world was still colored in red, but then his eyes adjusted to the bright light and he made out the setting sun flaming in bright yellow and orange. It lit Logan's face orange too, but when Scott searched his eyes they were wide with awe and colored a shade of hazel so bright that they almost looked green… and he was moving in for a kiss before he knew it.

It started off sweet and tender, their lips softly pressing together a couple of times… then in less than five seconds they were French kissing like their lives were depending on it.

"Headboard?" Scott pulled back long enough to suggest, and Logan immediately pulled him back in, his reply a low growl against Scott's lips.

Scott was in heaven.

Due to Logan's massive size the first couple of thrusts were always uncomfortable, and it required all of his self-control to relax, concentrate on his man and allow the pleasure to overcome the pain—and he was just getting there.

A pleasant, tingling sensation started where their bodies were joined, increasing with every slow roll of Logan's hips, and his hard cock began pulsing with need.

 _"…Logan,"_ he moaned and fisted the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white. His ankles rested on Logan's shoulders, sleek with sweat, and his toes curled whenever the head of Logan's cock brushed over his prostate. All along he was struggling to keep his eyes open—now that he could _really_ see his partner he didn't want to miss a thing.

But wickedly skillful, Logan adjusted their angle until he was hitting his g spot on the way in _and_ on the way out, and Scott had to close his eyes and throw his head back, desperately gasping for air.

"I'm… so… close…" he begged and Logan chuckled, the sound sexy as hell,

"I know. Come here," and he forced Scott's thighs further down and apart until he could thoroughly plow his upturned ass, deep but small thrusts that were meant to get Logan off so that their orgasms were more or less in sync.

It was still pleasurable, but not as tormentedly good and Scott could finally open his eyes and look at his man.

Rhythmically moving above him, Logan was drop dead gorgeous.

His ridiculously fit body was lit by the fireplace, a play of shadows and light contouring the massive muscles along his back, buttocks and thighs, and fascinated, Scott watched them work as Logan moved between his legs.

The throes of pleasure made the older man's expression a cross between pleasure and pain, their faces mere inches apart, but forcefully restrained Scott could not touch his mouth to Logan's—and he desperately craved kissing him.

Then, probably getting a little too close for his liking, Logan sank deep into him and stilled his movements. He took a couple of shuddering breaths and wordlessly guided Scott's right hand to his own neglected, throbbing cock.

"That's it," he encouraged as Scott began jerking off. The sight made his dick twitch and swell and Scott moaned at the pleasure it brought.

 _"Oh, yeah?_ " A feral smile tugged at Logan's lips and he began rolling his hips once more, ever so slowly—the way that guaranteed that soon his lover would cry out and beg.

"Faster…" Scott ordered but Logan ignored him.

He loved watching Cyke come undone, and he loved that he was the man able to get him there. There wasn't a prettier sight in the world than watching Scott Summers lose control.

Scott's free fist was forcefully clutching at the sheets in a poor attempt to regain it, but his head was thrown back, lush lips parted, built chest heaving frantically as he panted and moaned, low, heated sounds… and occasionally Logan's name. It was like hitting jackpot and Logan never told Scott why he loved torturing him when Scott was painfully ready to come; hearing Summers cry out his name was music to his ears.    

_"Lo-gan… please…"_

"Mm?"

_"I—ah, move!"_

"I am moving."

_"Harder, you jerk—ah—"_

"Like that?"

_"Ah… yeah… aw… harder… faster…—I'm—"_

And Logan launched forward, fusing his lips to Scott's and forcing his tongue deep into his mouth.

 _"Mm!"_ sucking hard on his tongue Scott's voice got muffled, but it was easy to tell he was on the verge, and letting himself get lost in the sensation Logan forcefully slammed their bodies together a couple more times, rocking the bed, until Scott's body was shocked into an orgasm and he moaned loudly against his lips. Closing his eyes, Logan allowed the way Scott's tight ass clenched around his dick get him off as well, holding Scott firmly while fierce pleasure shot through him in hot jets.   

They were panting, sweat cooling on their skin, when Scott opened his eyes and saw Logan looking down at him with so much tenderness his heart fluttered. The sudden urge to move into his arms was overwhelming—

"Easy."

Logan tightened his grip on his hips when Scott tried untangling their bodies, which was a new record even for him—Logan was never in a hurry to pull out. Sometimes it led to a second round and sometimes to Scott lying quietly beneath him with his arms wrapped around Logan's neck while accepting the last heated jets of his release—long minutes after Logan orgasmed.

He figured it was the animalistic part of his mutation, and the thought that Logan was subconsciously trying to impregnate him never failed to both embarrass and arouse him.

"Hey… You okay?" Never letting go, Logan carefully read his expression.

"Yeah, just thinking."

"What about?" he finally eased out of him and released his legs.

 _About marrying you,_ Scott surprised himself by thinking, their earlier talk stirring up feeling he carefully suppressed up until now, _about how much I want you for the long haul._

"…Slim?" Logan gathered him into his arms and pulled the blankets up to their chests.

"Only that I'm glad that we talked."

The feral mutant nodded his agreement and sent hands to the back of Scott's neck but Scott caught his wrists and searched his hazel eyes instead,

"I love you."

"Love you too."

They kissed, long and tender, until Scott pulled back and nodded. His hour was up and he was ready. A couple of minutes later he was already donning his sleeping goggles and his world was tinted red once more.

"G'night Slim."

"Good night Runt."

And falling asleep in Logan's arms, Scott was as happy as he could remember being in a very long time.

 

 

The End

 

   


End file.
